Chapter 4
“Report,” Cane commanded.
Surprise shrugged. “Nothing. They let me check their books myself and everything. No cyan pegasuses, and certainly no lightning cutie mark.”
Cane decided to ignore her grammar error (but seriously? Misconjugating the name of your own race?) and looked at Slip, who wore a sheepish expression. “I got three of four, sir," he confessed.
“Explain.”
Although it was not said harshly, Slip still flinched. “She refused to let me see the book without a warrant, and since I wasn't a paying guest, didn't let me in the back.”
Cane stared impassively.
“I told her it wasn't over yet, though,” Slip said, trying to save some face.
“Confidence, Rookie. You need to exude it.”
Slip hung his head. “Sorry, sir. I guess I'm more of a thinker than an enforcer,” he said.
Cane patted him on the head. “You're young. You still have time to grow. Now, which hotel was it?”
* * *
The mare at the desk popped her gum obnoxiously. (1) “Like I told Mini-me over there, unless you got a warrant or you're paying for a night, you gotta bounce.”
Cane's voice was flat, but laced with scorn. “I'll thank you to show some respect for the officers of the law that make it safe for you to walk home at night. Now, we're investigating a murder. Do you, or do you not, have a mare known as Rainbow Dash with this cutie mark staying here?”
“Couldn't say.”
Cane nodded. “Very well.” He turned back to his team. “Surprise? Take the main entrance. Slip, you take the east side. Load your weapons and stay alert.”
As the two other officers obeyed, the receptionist protested. “You can't just stay here with your crossbows loaded!”
Cane nodded. “You are perfectly correct. We can't be here, what with it being private property and us without a warrant. However, they are quite within our bounds standing outside on the sidewalk; which, as I'm sure you know, is public property. And we can't let a murderer out of our reach, can we? That wouldn't do at all. So my team is going to watch the exits, and I'm going to go get a warrant. Hopefully the judge is still at the courthouse." Concern entered his voice. "I'd hate to traumatize your guests by the prolonged presence of armed police officers. That really would be bad for business, wouldn't it?”
The receptionist looked around. She could see ponies pointing and whispering, and caught some of the conversations.
“Lookit his bags, he's from Mareami...”
“Mareami? That place is full of criminals! Maybe one's hiding up here!”
“Three officers? What happened here?”
“I don't know if I should feel safe or scared.”
“This is kindof freaking me out....”
She looked back to Cane, who dragged his hoof absentmindedly along the desk. The resulting scraping noise revealed that he was wearing a metal ponyshoe. “And I feel I should warn you: police are not held responsible for any damage incurred while fulfilling the terms of a warrant.”
“Fine!” the receptionist hissed. “Room 304!”
Cane jerked his head, calling his team back. “Thank you. You have been most helpful.”
* * *
Slip rapped on the door. “RPD! Rainbow Dash, open up!”
There was no response.
Cane loaded his weapon with a satisfying 'click'. “Slip? Kick it in on my count.”
“Or we could use this handy key,” Surprise suggested, holding up a key with a wing.
Cane raised an eyebrow. “Surprise? Where did you get that key?”
She shrugged.
Cane turned to Slip. “Do I want to ask?”
Slip's response came instantly. “No, sir. Not if you value your sanity.”
Opening locked doors was always a bit of a task for any non-unicorn, but Cane had had much practice and the lock soon yielded. On Cane's nod, the three rushed in... nearly tripping over a cyan pegasus, sprawled on the ground. The cutie mark made it clear that this was their target, and the reports hadn't been exaggerated; she really did have a rainbow-colored mane.
“Clear!” Surprise yelled.
“Well, we found her, sir,” Slip said, looking down at the prone pegasus. She lay on the ground with legs splayed everywhere and a wing trapped under her body. Her prismatic mane actually might have looked nice, were it not splayed haphazardly across her face. All in all, she didn't look comfortable.
“She's not dead, is she?” Surprise asked hesitantly.
Cane nudged Rainbow Dash with a hoof. “No. Judging by the smell, I'd say she's just passed out drunk.”
“Drunk already?” Slip was surprised. “It's not even six thirty!”
Surprise shrugged. “Some ponies just can't hold their liquor.”
“A common concern,” Cane observed drily. “Slip? A cup of water, if you please.”
Slip entered the bathroom, and returned with the requested item. Unceremoniously, Cane poured it on the pegasus's head. She came to painfully, groaning and pushing away at him with her hooves. Or, at least, she was attempting to. It looked more like she was attempting to lazily wave off a fly. Eventually, though, she managed to sit up, and painfully held her head in her hooves.
“Go 'way,” she whined.
“Good morning, Rainbow Dash!” Cane said forcefully and a bit louder than necessary.
Rainbow Dash groaned and held out a hoof. “Stop talking so loud,” she slurred.
“I'm speaking in a normal tone of voice,” Cane lied. Surprise couldn't hold in a chuckle, which elicited another pained protest from the cyan pegasus. “We're from Riverton PD, and we're just here to ask you a few questions. Then we'll let you get back to sleep.”
“Not so loud...” she protested.
“I'm being very quiet, miss Dash. You just appear to be hung over.” He paused, as if remembering something. “I do have some zebra hangover cure that I carry with me for emergencies. Would you like to try that?”
Rainbow nodded blearily.
“Do you consent to this treatment?”
Rainbow Dash didn't say anything, but she did groan pitifully and make a “gimmie” motion with her hoof, which Cane took for permission. He pulled a syringe from his saddlebag, uncapped it, and, after tapping it to ensure there were no air bubbles, injected it into Rainbow Dash.
“Now,” Cane said, “In about ten or minutes, depending on your metabolism, you're going to...”
But at this point, Rainbow's eyes widened in horror, and she sprinted to the bathroom and locked the door. The bystanders could hear various noises, most prominent being the sounds of flowing liquid and small screams of pain.
“Sir? What did you do to her?” Slip asked, raising a hoof nervously.
“Zebra cleansing cure,” Cane replied. “Clears the alcohol right out. It's a bit painful, but very effective.”
“Where do you even get that?” Surprise asked, obviously intrigued.
“I had a zebra on my last team. Colt could mix up just about anything. Great pony, once you got over the constant rhyming.” He gave a slight snort of laughter as one particular memory came back, when the zebra had taken a shot to the leg. Cane had never heard so many swear words used so creatively.
“For a cure, it's a bit... loud,” Slip commented.
“But effective,” Cane repeated. “Hey. The alcohol's gotta come out somehow.”
Slip blinked, but then realized the implications of that simple sentence. He tucked his tail under himself protectively, feeling a bit of the sympathy burn.
About three minutes later, Rainbow Dash staggered out of the bathroom. Her back legs moved stiffly, and she was gasping in pain. “What was that?” she demanded.
“Zebra hangover cure. It hurts, but hey—no headache.”
“Next time, I'll just have the hangover,” she muttered, gingerly touching her still-burning marehood as if to reassure herself that it was still there.
Surprise always looked on the bright side of things. “Hey, it's not so bad. At least now you can go drinking again!”
Rainbow Dash turned to glare at the speaker, but suddenly her eyes widened, and she cocked her head in confusion. “Pinkie Pie?” she asked.
The white pegasus shook her head. “No, silly, I'm Surprise.”
“So am I.”
Surprise leaned in close to Rainbow Dash and squinted. “I thought you were Rainbow Dash,” she said accusingly.
“No, I am, but I... ugh..." Rainbow Dash shook her head. "Never mind. You just look a lot like one of my friends from back home.”
“I don't think we're friends... but we could be!” Surprise smiled broadly. Then she frowned. "Unless you really did kill Lightning Rod. Then I'm gonna arrest you."
“Ok, that's just creepy,” Rainbow muttered, before turning back to Cane. “So, since you're obviously the brains of this bunch, what was worth interrupting my nap for?”
Cane jumped that grammar error too and began. “We're investigating a murder...”
“Whoa! Whoa!” Rainbow Dash took an unsteady step back, holding up a hoof in protest. “I've pulled plenty of pranks, but I would never kill somepony!”
“That's what they all say,” Slip muttered darkly.
“Yeah, but I mean it! A criminal record bars you from applying for the Wonderbolts! And that's been my dream forever!”
“Forever?” Surprise asked.
“Forever ever!”
“Forever ever ever?”
“Forever ever ever ev-” Rainbow Dash blinked, and then turned back to Cane. “Ok, she's really creeping me out here. Can she leave?”
“We'll all leave shortly,” Cane promised. “Where were you earlier today, around four pm?”
“At the bar downstairs,” she said. “I was there all afternoon.”
“Can anypony confirm your story?”
Rainbow Dash just smirked.
* * *
“Did I see her?” The unicorn bartender rolled his eyes as he cleaned another of a long row of glasses. His martini cutie mark gleamed in the dull light. “Who didn't see her? Yeah, she was here couple hours ago. She an' a buncha others was here. They came right after their convention, so prolly around three or so they showed up.”
“Convention?” Cane asked.
The bartender smirked as he set down the first glass and picked up another. “You new here or sommat? They were havin' another one of them annual weather conventions. New techniques and such. Our town's famous for that big river, see, and they do their weather drills there usin' water from our river. Makes the fishin' bad for a couple weeks, but all them visitors is great for our economy.”
Cane turned to Surprise, who nodded to confirm what the bartender said. “Every weather team trains with our river. Best and largest source of fresh water for about fifteen leagues.”
Cane nodded and turned back to the bartender. “What else do you remember?”
The bartender made a noncommittal noise. “She was drinkin' mostly filly stuff, but bragging like she was drunk.” He raised his voice in imitation. “ 'Ooh, lookit me, I'm the fastest pegasus in Equestria. I'm going to join the Wonderbolts. Save my autograph, it'll be worth big bits someday!'” He rolled his eyes again as he picked up another glass. “So, of course, somepony called her out on it, and she took one of my coasters and flew out to get a visitor's timestamp at Canterlot Castle.”
Cane nodded. Getting a timestamp as proof of visitation was one of the things every tourist did when visiting Canterlot castle. “That far, eh?” Cane's best subject was definitely not geography, but even he knew that that was an impressive run. “How long did it take?”
“Don't remember exactly, but I do remember she came back faster'n I expected. Passed it around, they decided it was real, and then everypony was buying her drinks.” He let out a small chuckle. “Good fer business, bad fer her. And I thought she was bad sober... Not ten minutes later I had to cut 'er off and have Boomer over there escort her back to her room.”
The large earth pony bouncer gave a small smirk. Cane regarded him with interest, but showed no fear. Eventually, he returned his attention to the bartender. “Interesting... and is the coaster in question still here?”
The bartender jerked his head towards one end of the bar. “Still sittin' over there, I think.”
Cane nodded. “Thank you for your time.” And with that, Cane turned to go.
Slip, however, had another question. He had been examining the menu. “I recognize most of these, but what's an underground gargleblaster?”
Cane personally didn't care for alcohol, and didn't know much about drinks in general. But the slight chuckle from Boomer and the slight gasp from Surprise gave him more than enough cause to deem that 'a bad question'. “Slip, I don't think...”
But the bartender, with a huge smile on his face, had already begun to mix. “You've never had one? Well, take this little sample on the house. Anythin' t' show our appreciation fer Riverton's Finest.”
“Gee, thanks!” Slip said happily, accepting the drink and taking a long sip.
* * *
“He can't have anything more in his stomach,” Surprise said, her eyes wide in disbelief. “He just can't.”
“That's what I thought three and a half minutes ago,” Cane said, staring impassively at the bathroom door, “but it sounds like he's still going strong.”
Sure enough, Slip's misery was still readily apparent. At least, the noises were.
Surprise looked at him. “You're good with time.”
Cane shrugged. “I'm good with mental math. It's helped me out a few times. Like right now—I've eliminated Rainbow Dash from our list of suspects.”
“Yeah?” Surprise asked.
Cane nodded. “The timestamp is legitimate. The visitor's center at Canterlot Castle uses a special gold alloy in their ink that makes it shimmer like Celestia's sun, so you know it's a real souvenir.” Cane muttered something that sounded like 'tourist trap' before continuing, “The time stamped was the same time we got the call; which, according to the guard, was about ten minutes from the actual time of death. That means that unless she shot him and got to Canterlot in seven or eight minutes, which would require a top speed of around 300 miles an hour, not counting times for standing in line or slowing down for air traffic, or had pre-planned this with another partner who could also fly in excess of 168 miles an hour, or a high-mage level unicorn with advanced teleportation abilities, she didn't do it. And I doubt the last two would ever happen. She didn't seem like the organized type to me.”
Surprise nodded. “Because she was drunk before seven?”
“And by the state of her room. Papers on her desk from the convention were all out of order and most had more doodles than notes, and her bed was unmade from the night before, that sort of thing.”
“Wow,” Surprise breathed. “You're smart.”
“I try,” Cane said shortly.
“So now what?”
“Now? We wait until Rookie stops trying to puke his guts out. Then, we mock him mercilessly for getting drunk off of a sip of one drink. Then, we go back to the park and see if we can figure out what I missed.”
* * *
Cane rested his head against the tree in defeat. “It has been forty five minutes. It will be dark in ten. And I still can't find anything.”
“How about a broken crossbow?” Surprise asked. “Could be the murder weapon.”
Cane exhaled slowly. “And where, oh wise one, would I find such an object?”
“Right above you in that tree.”
Cane looked up, and sure enough, there were pieces of a crossbow. There was no legbrace part of it, but the bow itself dangled from its string, looped around a branch.
“Surprise, you're a genius.”
“No I'm not. I'm a police officer!”
Cane decided not to answer that. “Just go get it.”
Surprise pulled a clean cloth out from her saddlebags with her mouth so as not to contaminate the evidence, and flew up to retrieve it. She laid it on the ground, and the three gathered around.
“What do you see?” Cane asked.
“Probably an earth pony,” Slip guessed. “I recognize this model of crossbow. It's a training bow, so it's relatively cheap, but designed for taking a beating. Whoever broke it was pretty strong.” He paused, as if about to say more.
“But?” Cane prompted.
“It's not very accurate,” Slip continued. “Let me rephrase that—this model is notoriously inaccurate. So whoever did it had to be close.”
Cane nodded. “Good. Except for one thing.” He leaned in close. “Surprise? Grab me a stick from the tree.”
If Surprise found this a strange request, she didn't show it. She quickly brought one down. Cane held it up with one hoof, and stamped on it with the other, snapping it in half. He then picked one piece up in his mouth, and held it to the edge of the broken bow.
“Hee the diff-enth?” Cane asked around the stick.
“Yeah,” Surprise said. “That edge isn't all jaggedy like your stick; it's much smoother.”
“So either they are the strongest pony this side of the ocean, or they used a saw. How did nopony notice a pony carrying a saw?”
“I don't know,” Surprise said.
“It was a rhetorical question.” Cane sighed, both in exhaustion and in frustration when he realized that it was dark. “A better question that I do want an answer to is, why aren't there saliva trails on it?" He exhaled deeply. "This doesn't add up, but I don't think we're getting any further tonight. Go home, you two, and sleep on this. I'll see you in the morning.”
“Tomorrow's Saturday, right?” Surprise asked.
“Yes, why?”
“Because we get to come to work later on Saturdays,” Surprise said.
Cane turned to look at her. Even in the dark, she could feel the power of his glare. “But you work for me now. And I say come in regular time.”
Surprise gulped. “Sir, yes sir,” she said.
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2126849
As a general rule, I try to only have one of those per story. If I've forgotten, though, and placed another one further along in the story, I suppose you'll just have to *puts on sunglasses* read it and weep.
2126973
Me: DAMN RIGHT, MOTHERFUCKERS.
I do hope this gets picked up again at some point, I'm quite intrigued with the whole mystery so far.